


Chuba, Mister Mando! (introduction)

by WordSearchRival



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Annoying Teenagers, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, I don't know what I was thinking but I did it, Kashari (WordSearchRival), ManDadlorian, Mandadlorian is best dad, Mando is a Good Dad, Midlife Crisis, Space Dad, Twi'leks (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22105153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordSearchRival/pseuds/WordSearchRival
Summary: Din's decided to turn his life around, and now he has his first ever rescue mission- go to the outskirts of Smytok and save some village children from certain imperial doom with the help of an annoying teen mechanic wannabe and his "son".It's tough doing any mission when you're a single father who happens to be a child beskar-made-magnet.(introduction to a full story, don't know if I'll continue it YET)
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 79





	Chuba, Mister Mando! (introduction)

**Author's Note:**

> Bada Bing Bada Boom, my first fic on this account.  
> I don't uuuusually write original characters but I thought why not!
> 
> Twi'leki Dictionary:  
> "Chuba"- Hey  
> "Vishna" - Mister

Kashari by Me!

 _"Chu_ _ba, Chuba, Vishna!”_

 _“Nawara…_ Mister, you hearin’ me through your metal bucket? Hello?”

_Tap tap._

Din groaned a bubbling sound through his chewed up lips. 

“Oh, oh good, you’re up- thought I’d hafta bury you out front with the troopers.”

Din’s eyes were swollen shut- and as he attempted to pry them open with sheer brain effort (no hands could surpass the helmet now, not with that annoying person being about), he flexed his fingers, relaxing at the worn leather that pressed back against his joints. Rusty joints that he knew were covered in rusty blood.

“Hey,” said the voice, a high-pitched rasp, and a metal object clanged against the side of his helmet.

On impact, Din’s eyes opened, the hot red sun burning his irises and creating a shadowy figure above him. Was the ground shaking? The ground must be shaking; His head was pounding, and he felt like his body was trembling. 

It was so goddamn hot on this planet- sweat was dripping down his face in waterfalls. That smack to the head must’ve done something because now he felt like he could move.

“The kid…” he managed.

“What? Speak louder, Mister Bucket.”

“The kid… you have him?”

“Me? Have a kid? You mean the little green imp?”

_Yes, the little green imp thing._

The girl finally came into view- a yellow-skinned, blue-eyed Twi’lek, he noticed, caked in grey sandy dust that stained the front of her overalls. She was young, by the looks of it. Her face didn’t have any signs of age past maybe thirteen or fourteen.

“Yes, the kid.”

The girl left his view, and he heard her scramble across the sandy ground.

Din waited for what felt like an hour, staring up at the orange sky, anxious because all he wanted was the kid, and then he heard the fussing of a baby and the curses of that raspy-voiced girl. “I got it; it’s a nice pet by the way, where’d you get it?” Din’s anticipation was growing, he just wanted to see the kid, but he kept talking.

“Arvala-7,” he croaked.

The yellow Twi’lek returned to bowing over his helmet and awkwardly showed Din the kid by dangling him over his head by the armpits. The child’s head shook with a sneeze. 

“I’ll take him, thank you.”

The Twi’lek handed him his kid, and he said nothing as he brushed his gloved hand against the child’s fluffy hair, the little womp rat giggling and babbling as it face planted onto his chest plate.

“Does it have a name, Mister Bucket?”

“No.”

“Do _you_ have a name, then?”

“No.”

“You sound awfully sick. What are you and your imp doing out here, huh?”

“We needed to land… ship’s not doin’ so hot.”

The kid cooed, and Din sat upright. His vision was still slightly blurry, but he could see his little womp rat, cheeks flushed and eyes happy with the recognition of its guardian’s helmet. It made Din’s heart squeeze.

“From the looks of it, _you’re_ not doin’ so hot either,” said the Twi’lek. Din pulled together all the strength he had left in his exhausted legs and stood from the sandy ground. The Twi’lek followed, rising to where her lekkus peaked just below his chest plate collar. Din huffed, turning around to take a good look at his ship: covered in dents and scratches, dyed splotches of red thanks to close brushes with comets and fizzing electric shocks under its belly due to a substitute repairman’s slipshod word. That substitute repairman being him.

“I can help you with it.”

Din turned to look back at the girl. 

“I’m a mechanic; I’ve fixed plenty of ships before.”

Din contemplated this, only to remember his struggle to find affordable food for the baby before he’d flown over to Smytok. _He had no money. How was he to pay the girl for the repairs? Wait, this child does repairs? Why would he consider letting her anywhere near the Razor Crest?_

“Sorry, kid, is there any adult here I can talk to?”

The Twi’lek looked offended and placed her hands on her hips as an attempt to look bigger. Older?

“I’m thirteen, Mister Bucket; I can handle myself _and_ my shop. I’ve fixed hundreds- no, like five- ships, and they’ve flown outta my dock just fine, I’m telling you now.”

Din huffed and looked around the area.

He was definitely on Smytok, a backwater planet that had a sparse population who lived distances away from each other. The Smytok people were a mix of different species, all of whom migrated from other planets, escaped captivity, or just wanted a peaceful form of living. The planet was made up of mostly desert, and from the looks of it, Din was right in the middle of one. He could see the peaks of tin roofs over what he assumed was the girl’s hut and living quarters, and there weren’t too many shapes of buildings behind it. It was a village as small as the one on Nevarro. 

“If you’re thinking about finding another mechanic, I’m the only one,” said the girl, and she turned from the Mandalorian, walking over to a box that was nestled in the sand not too far away. She clicked open the box, flipping open the top and taking out a few tools.

“I’ve got nothing to pay you with,” said Din, and the child whimpered as if it could sense his worry. No, no, Din was not worried. He wasn’t, not at all. If he were lucky, the kid would help him and not know the true value of their work. Whatever value that happened to be.

It wasn’t like Din was a bad client, just that he’d been unlucky in revenue these days.

“I think you’ve got _something,”_ the yellow-skinned Twi’lek said, and she stood back up to shut the box with the heel of her shoe, trudging over to Din and raising a screwdriver. Was she trying to impress him? “You’re a bounty hunter, aren’t you? You’ve got a Fett helmet.”

Din scowled at the name. “I am, but I don’t hunt anymore.”

“Good,” said the girl, and she leaned forward to inspect his pauldron. He flinched away just a bit, and the child moved forward to reach out for her lekkus. Din gently moved the child's hand away and whispered a _don't do that._ "it's not a bounty mission I need you to do anyway. You can pay for your repairs in a rescue."

The Mandalorian quirked a brow from under his helmet. Ever since his "misadventure" with Ranzar Malk's crew, he had a distrust in these so-called "rescue missions." "Specify," he said.

"There are some village kids," said the girl, and she took a look at the child, reaching out a hand to pet at its head. It cooed. "They were captured by some imperials-"

"I don't think-"

"They're my friends, _Vishna,_ and they needa come back to their families. They needa come back _home,_ Sir."

Din sighed. "That'll cost more than just a repair."

The Twi'lek squared her shoulders and rose her face. Din could've sworn she stepped on the tips of her toes so that she could be only a little less short than he was. "Then I will pay you handsomely in addition."

The Child squealed and tugged at one of the Twi'lek's Lekkus. 

"Ow, for Kriff's-"

Din snatched the child's hand back and scolded him, and then looked back to the girl. "Alright. It's a deal."

The Twi'lek brightened up. "Thank you, thank you so much, Mister...?"

"Mo!" chanted the kid, and Din wanted to put the little womp rat back in the ship.

Since leaving Cara and Greef, Din found that the kid, no, _his kid,_ had started forming its own way of speaking. "Sawa" was yes, "yo" was no, "dumama" was its name for the joystick ball, and "mo" was the baby's interpretation of Din's name. Or most likely what others called him: _Mando._

"It's Mando. Call me Mando."

The Twi'lek looked satisfied, and she reached out a stiff hand to shake. Din looked at the hand for a moment, slipped one of his own hands from his hold on the baby, and shook in return. "Hi, Mister Mando. I'm Kashari."

Kashari released his hand for a mock salute and then turned to gaze back at the ship. "Sooo, rescue first or-?"

"Ship. Ship first."

"Cool, totally cool."


End file.
